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Johanna is sent home a week before the reaping, and there's no one waiting for her when she arrives. She walks to the Victor's Village alone, unsurprised when her house has a window boarded up from a break-in. She walks in to assess the damage, relieved that it's not too bad. She didn't have too much to begin with, but her house is now pretty much a bed, a chair, a sink and counter in the kitchen, and a toilet in the back. The refrigerator, television, and couch were gone, as was her water pipe. She's glad it's summer, because she has a feeling any wood she had stockpiled for the fireplace is probably gone, too.
She goes to Blight's for dinner, and he gawks at her Capitol appearance, walking to Jackson's and making him come for the meal too. Jackson is in his 60s now, gruff and hostile, but the three of them are the only ones with the Victor distinction in the District, so they've always looked out for each other, at least. "Did he threaten the District?" Jackson asks, pouring another couple fingers of amber liquor.
The meal is good, tastes of District 7 that Johanna never got to eat in the Capitol: beets and potatoes in a stew and homemade pickles and a berry tart with fresh honey, and it's a comedown to have to think of her time in the Capitol when she's enjoying it. She wants to say yes, that she's helping District 7 by staying in the Capitol, and not helping Finnick's girlfriend who she's never even met, because how could Jackson ever understand why she would do something as stupid as that? But then she worries that Blight will think District 7 is in trouble and do something stupid, and so she doesn't dare lie. She shakes her head. "More personal thing," she says. "I did something stupid."
Blight looks at her with an expression that isn't quite pity, but something close. "You're not stupid," he says, "Everything is unfair."
She thinks he's being extremely generous with her, especially if he's deduced the situation, but she'll accept this grace, since she doubts many others will grant it. A couple days later, when the three of them walk to the reaping, she doesn't miss the dirty looks she gets from a few of the residents. It's not all of them, there are some who look relieved to see her back, and some that are just openly curious, but there is palpable tension like always on reaping day, and she can feel some resentment in her direction.
She looks Capitol, that certainly doesn't help things. And she seemingly lives there now. She begins feeling angry, that they don't understand what it means for her to have to stay in the Capitol, but she manages to hold it back. She wishes she had some morphling, just a bit to hold her steady while she had to be in front of so many people. She stands between Blight and Jackson, watching as the two Tributes are selected. And then, too quickly, she's on the train back to the Capitol.
She has a headache by the time she makes it back to the Capitol. The girl tribute has been crying the whole time, and Johanna can't blame her. She's undersized and slow-moving, and Johanna doesn't see a good chance for Victory for her in the arena. Her boy tribute is brawny, however, working already with his father in the lumberyard, and he has been talking with Blight about plans already as they travel. When she gets off the train it feels like she's home, and that is a sad realization all on its own.
Once they get to the Training Center, she realizes her things have been moved back to the 7th floor. She had almost automatically gone to the fourth floor and is glad she doesn't - she doesn't want a surprise visit to Finnick before she's ready. She goes to Remake before the Welcome Party, her agent waiting for her just outside.
Septimus Winter was one of the few men in the Capitol she could trust, and she was glad when she met him over the past winter. It was a blessing to have someone to manage her appointments, her style, even the clients she had to sleep with, and all the minutiae surrounding such things: transportation, contracts, payments. He look a quarter of her earnings, and he was worth every penny. What else did she have to spend money on? Alcohol and morphling, mostly. Sep was short, just a few inches taller than she was, with his hair back in a bun and a preference for formal suits.
He'd negotiated with her stylists as well, for a more natural look: they kept the blonde, but dropped the elaborate hairdos. They whitened her teeth, but makeup was understated. She had a strict rotation of simple, colorful outfits to wear on the show, not the flashy gowns she wore for the first few episodes. Luckily, the show was on pause while the Games were going on, all of Panem's attention on the arena.
"Welcome back," Sep greets, handing her a little tin of morphling. Oh, how she missed it. That was one of the other perks of having a manager, someone to get her things she needed, without her having to go searching.
"Thanks," she says, without much enthusiasm. "Just the party tonight?"
He nods. "It's understood the Victors have the VIP room reserved after the Welcome Party. There's no Mentor duties or sponsors."
This is good news at least, and she pushes half a fingertip of morphling into her gums and sits in the chair in Remake to get into form for the first events of the 72nd Games.
She sees Finnick, finally, in the reception hall of the Welcome Party, drinking and talking with the District 4 Escort. The tributes are there, throughout the hall, talking nervously and sticking to the edges, but she doesn't have eyes for them. She doesn't even know what she wants from Finnick, exactly, but she makes a beeline to him, and he notices her, his eyes widening a bit at her new appearance, and he excuses himself, the Escort walking off with the smile all Capitolites leave with after speaking with Finnick.
"Jo," he says, his tone neutral, as if feeling her out.
She can't blame him, she supposes. How many times has she opened a conversation with anger or blame? But the morphling is working, and she has nothing. She is empty. She's used to the Capitol now, after being here for more than a year for all but a week, and now that she has his attention, she doesn't know what she wants with it. "Fin," she says, mirroring him.
"You look like a Career," he says, and her gut twists. She's too undersized to be a Career, and too… oppositional, or at least she was. And well… there were no Academies in 7, no one taught her how to win Games and how to talk in interviews and gave her special food and hormones, she just won the Games with luck and grit. It's insulting at best. She sneers at him. She hadn't come here to be mean, but he shouldn't test her.
He detects that this is the wrong thing to say, but seems unbalanced, unsure what the right thing to say is. Finnick, the social butterfly, the Capitol's favorite escort, is on edge with her, probably because he is the one who made her like this. "I think you look good," he says, his voice quieter. And what is she to take from this? That he would have preferred if she looked like a Career all along? That much was obvious, he chose his Career girlfriend over her, his outer district lover, in the end. But to tell her he likes her appearance now… was he trying to make a go of them again?
"What do you want, Finnick?"
His brow furrows, something she almost never sees on Finnick when he's out in public, when he's 'performing'. "I don't know how to fix this," he says, and he's so miserable when he says it, that she feels like once again she should shove down her own misery for the sake of Finnick, to tell him "there's nothing to fix, I can endure this" because she knows it's what he wants to hear.
Haymitch arrives then, glass of liquor in hand as always, and she wants an exit. She doesn't want to face the two of them together. Haymitch eyes her new appearance but doesn't comment on it, turning to Finnick. "How's Annie?" he asks.
She wonders if this is for her sake, a question of 'Is Annie fit to Mentor? Can Johanna be relieved from her extra duties?' but if it is, it fails miserably. Finnick's face falls again, and he keeps his voice low as he replies. "She's still on this mental ward. I think she's getting better, but they don't let her out for more than an afternoon."
"Give it time, Fin." Haymitch turns to Johanna. "How you holding up? Got those Capitolites wrapped around your fingers yet?"
She shrugs, knowing the answer is more 'no' than 'yes', but not willing to show any weakness. She'll never be like Cashmere, unrelenting, ambitious, everything it takes to succeed here, but she can fake it well enough. "I have a manager now."
Finnick raises his eyebrows at this, and even Haymitch cracks a smile as he finishes his drink.
Later, in the Victor Room at the Welcome Party, she isn't sure where she belongs. Haymitch and Chaff are starting their usual drinking game competition and Finnick and June have joined in, and she thinks about greeting Enobaria but she's in conversation with Cashmere, and Johanna is more than aware of Cashmere's feelings towards her. She ends up sitting by herself, nursing a drink slowly, taking another pinch of the morphling now and again, especially if she catches a glimpse of herself in the television commercials that flash on the screens.
Elin comes to sit beside her, looking tired as always, her hair lank and her collarbones jutting out a bit too much, but she smiles wanly at Johanna in greeting. "Oh, they fancied you up," she comments, sliding into the booth. She puts her hand out expectantly and Johanna hands her the morphling. Elin takes more than Johanna would think is safe and takes her time pressing it up into her gums, and then she settles back into the booth, the two of them watching the others drink in silence for a few minutes.
"Why'd you break up with Haymitch?" Johanna asks. It's a bold question, especially to someone over ten years older, but Elin just took a hefty amount of her drugs, and they sit beside each other in the Mentor booth for days each year, so she figures they're at least acquaintances.
Elin seems to come back to earth a little, turning to face Johanna. "Your family is dead, aren't they?" she asks.
Johanna nods.
Elin nods. "So is his. You wouldn't understand… my sister… Snow took her."
"What?"
She moves over, just a bit, so they can whisper. "My sister was five years younger, 13 that second year I was Mentoring. Haymitch and I got into some rebel bullshit, and she was kidnapped to get me to fall in line. They'd send me a lock of her hair, a photograph of her, once they let me hear her on the phone, but-" she sighs, her thin fingers white-knuckled as she digs her nails into her palms. "She never was found," she says, after a deep breath. I have never found out if she was killed, or if she's still alive, somewhere… an Avox, a slave, happy, maybe… I just don't know."
She's right, Johanna can't understand. There are some things impossible to understand unless you're living them, like being from a Career or non-Career District, or Mentoring with family to protect, or Mentoring with no one left. There's nothing for her to say, no 'I'm sorry' is going to patch that hurt.
"There was no dating after that," Elin says. "No rebel plans. Not much of anything."
There's something in Johanna's chest, trying to claw its way up her throat, but she tries to shove it down. She opens the tin and shuts it again, enjoying the snap of the clasp settling into place. But still the words are bubbling up. "Are you… saying the rebel cause isn't worth it?" she asks, voice low. It's dangerous to even mention such a thing, but it's dangerous to tell herself that there's no hope. To imagine that she should just roll over and play nice with the Capitol.
Elin licks her lips, and Johanna can see the age lines on her face now, beyond her years. "The Capitol has cruelty beyond whatever you can imagine," she says. "To be a rebel is to risk something more than your life."
Going home for the reaping had been a blessing and a curse. It had been nice to see her mother, her sister and sister-in-law, and her nieces, but it also served to make Enobaria acutely aware of how much leverage the Capitol had on her, and how much she was leaving behind when she was forced to live in the Capitol full time.
It's impossible to explain to her family that she's in the Capitol atoning for her brother's crimes, because to do that would be to admit to the sex, the drugs, the whole unsavory business of Mentoring beyond putting on a headset and managing gifts for the tributes in the arena, so she keeps her answers vague, things like "Snow says I have to stay, that he needs to keep a close eye on me after Tullus." She can tell they still blame her, that they still think there's a way she could arrange it to come home more often. She doesn't know how to explain that she'd take the first train home, given the option.
And her family is stressed because of the absence of her brother. They don't believe he was a rebel - only Enobaria has seen the incriminating photograph - so they think his imprisonment was a random attack. She assures them he'll be let out in another six months.
Back in the Capitol, she finds it hard to get her footing with so many other Victors back again. She doesn't dare go to see Johanna now that there are others in the apartment, but she isn't even sure if the two of them talking would be seen the wrong way by anyone, so she's hesitant, deciding to wait it out until the others leave. She mostly sticks with the twins, as usual, but some nights she finds herself alone. She goes up to the Mentor lounge with the intention of drinking at the smaller, private bar up there, but pauses before turning into the room, hearing hushed voices.
It's late at night, there's an expectation of privacy, certainly, with a few Mentors holding down the fort in the booths, and most everyone else out drinking or asleep, but the thinks it's high irresponsible to be talking about anything secretive in such a public area. And so she presses herself to the wall of the corridor, listening, as is her right.
"You need to figure out how to undo this," Haymitch is saying, his voice a harsh whisper. "For her sake, and for our plans."
"You think I don't know that?" Finnick shoots back. "I screwed up, I know that, but I don't see anyone suggesting a way to fix it."
Haymitch sighs. "You know I care about you," he says, "But this is a District 4 problem. There's no reason she should even be involved."
Finnick audibly scoffs at this. "Oh, so it's everyone for themselves now?"
Enobaria can't stay hidden anymore, her irritation growing. She walks into the room, the two of them startled at her sudden appearance, but she disregards that, walking right up to their tight group. It's their own fault for having this conversation in such a place. "Would you have done the same for her, had she asked?" she poses, her voice still quiet but challenging him. Haymitch shoots her a look, as if to ask 'how much do you know about this?', but she only has eyes for Finnick.
"I- of course," he stutters, but they all can tell he's considering in real time what it means, to live full time in the Capitol, to never go home, and all for someone from another District. She raises an eyebrow, and he does not insist.
"There's no reason she should be involved," Enobaria repeats, her teeth flashing.
"What's it to you?" Finnick asks, seeming to get his bearings back, if only by putting her on the spot instead.
What is it to her? She thinks of Johanna's smile, waking up beside Johanna, watching Johanna as she comes. She pushes those thoughts away. This isn't about her personal relationship. This isn't even about Johanna, really. "You just irritate me," she says. "Your image is this stand-up guy, always helping people out, but you really just take and take."
Now Haymitch shoots her a warning glance, like she's going too far, and maybe she is, Finnick also suffers as a Mentor. But she can't help it. Why is he revered for his win and she whispered about in horror, like they both didn't murder other children to get out of the arena? Why does his District build him a statue while Johanna's breaks into her house? He has a girlfriend, he wants a mistress. He has his family safe at home, he needs Annie to never come back. He drinks and drinks, but gets mad at Johanna for her morphling habit. Every little thing about him compounds until she finds him too irritating to be around.
She shakes her head, not hearing his response, if there is one, and leaves.
It's during the Victory Party, once the boy from District 10 has been announced as the winner, that Enobaria comes across a very strange scene. This year the party is just in a nightclub, not a formal hall or an art gallery, so she makes her way through the crowds to the smoking lounge where she thinks she'll find Cashmere, surprised when Johanna is there as well. The two of them don't get along, in fact, they avoid being in the same room together, so she approaches cautiously.
"I hear you got a manager," Cashmere says, conversationally. Her eyes are glassy from the alcohol, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. Her blonde hair is in a stylishly messy bun, and she's wearing a silvery, strappy dress. "Though rumor has it Sep is just a washed-up morphling dealer."
Johanna is rolling a cigarette on the bar beside Cashmere, wearing a black slip dress that Enobaria found incredibly sexy, and hoped she could see it in private another time. "I wouldn't say Sep is a washed-up dealer," Johanna replies to Cashmere, tapping the tin on the bartop.
Cashmere rolls her eyes, but her usual absolute aversion to Johanna is gone. They seem to share an uneasy truce. At least they can trade barbs back and forth, Enobaria thinks. She joins them, sipping her drink, watching the 10 boy, Blase, up on the screens, listening as Cashmere and Johanna fight about tobacco and television and all matter of things, enjoying her favorite red wine.
After a while, June, the Victor of the 69th Games from District 5 approaches. She has seen June with Johanna from time to time, but they've always run in different circles. "Hey, are you really just becoming a Career now?" she asks Johanna. Her tone is half-joking, but there's a bit of an accusation there.
"What?" Johanna asks. "I literally can't be."
"You know what I mean," June says. "You're blonde now, they've made you all pretty. Are you only going to talk with Careers now?"
June has thick black hair and is a little chubby, and Enobaria can see, perhaps, how this new arrangement has separated her from her friend. But Cashmere has stepped forward, looking down at June with her several inches of height advantage. "What do you have against Careers?" she asks, almost sneering. Enobaria can feel the energy rippling off of Cashmere, she is angling for a fight.
But June looks back at Johanna, trying to connect with her friend. "Do you even care about anything besides being a Capitol sellout?" she asks. "Or are you going to stay in the Capitol again to try to get more famous?"
Johanna opens her mouth to say something, probably to explain that she doesn't have a choice, but Cashmere beats her to it. "And what's wrong with being famous? Jealous because no one in the Capitol likes you?" she asks, shoving June back a few steps.
But June comes back swinging, a right hook that connects fairly well with Cashmere's right eye, though Cashmere manages to dodge the worst of it. And then Cashmere leaps forward, arms reaching for June's neck, both of them on the floor of the lounge, pulling hair, scratching with nails, trying to hurt the other in any way.
Enobaria is delayed by surprise, catching Johanna's eye. She looks shocked - perhaps at how quickly the situation had deteriorated, perhaps that Cashmere had taken her side, however indirectly. But then they move to the fighting pair, Enobaria pulling Cashmere back while Johanna wrestles June aside. She takes a fist to the throat for her trouble, and June just glares at her before running off, hair mussed and nose bloody.
Johanna coughs the air back into her lungs, face red, and joins Enobaria and Cashmere back at the bar. It's the Victory Party, there's too many people around, this fight is certain to be in a tabloid by morning. But Cashmere has already ordered another round of drinks, laughing even as her eye and cheek swell up. "Oh, that was fun," she says. "I haven't fought anyone in ages."
Even Johanna, who looks both worried and exasperated, cracks a little smile. "That was stupid," she says.
Cashmere just laughs harder. "She shouldn't test me!"